


For The Love Of A Dwarf

by Hallianna



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, Kink Meme, Romance, first time love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-18 10:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallianna/pseuds/Hallianna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Varric needs a personal favor, he knows he can only ask Hawke.  She's the only one who won't laugh at him, and he'll take his chances on whether or not she'll be so offended that she rips his head off and uses it as a kickball.  But when the favor becomes more than just some friendly assistance, they both realize that they've been holding back from each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For The Love Of A Dwarf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KyeShgall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyeShgall/gifts).



> Filled a kink meme prompt from KyeShgall (thanks for the plot bunnies!), prompt goes as follows (original prompt found here: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/10749.html?thread=41535997)
> 
> Varric is writing the adventure/romance of M!Brosca, hero of Ferelden. Everyone knows about the passionate romance between Brosca and his bard companion Leliana. 
> 
> Varric, who has only been to bed with dwarves before, wants to do some writerly research for a realistic love scene between a dwarven guy and human woman. He convinces best friend F!Hawke to help him out. Clothes on, no shenanigans, just to test a few positions and then share her observations with him on what's comfortable and what's not.
> 
> Varric’s so convinced he’s not into humans, he doesn’t consider the possibility that once they start mimicking sex positions, he might actually become aroused. But of course that’s what happens. When neither Varric nor Hawke can hide their shared arousal and mutual attraction anymore, the clothes start to come off, and one thing leads to another. And another. And another. (There’s lots of research to be done.)

Hawke kicked the boot that was propped up on the table beside hers.  “Really?”

The boot kicked back.  “Yes, really.  Why would I lie about something like that?”

Hawke raised an eyebrow.  “When don’t you lie?”

“When I’m talking to you.”  Isabela waggled her eyebrows.  “Shocking, I know.  But it’s true.”  She put a dramatic hand over her heart.  “You’re my one dear friend, Hawke.  And a girl has to have a friend she can spill all her secrets to.”

“So you really did that?”

Isabela laughed, a honey-rich thing that made everything she said sound like sex.  “He was trussed up like a Winter Solstice pig, gag and all.  And he wanted it, bad.”

Hawke knocked back the rest of her ale and shuddered.  “And he got off on that?  You didn’t have to-”  She made a vaguely rude gesture with one hand on her wrist, which then flicked upwards.

Isabela shook her head.  “The poor boy got off on being tied up and talked dirty to, that’s it.  I didn’t go anywhere near his prick.”  

Hawke let out a low whistle.  “Takes all kinds, I suppose.”

Isabela let her feet fall from the only mildly grungy table so she could lean back and put one leg in Hawke’s lap  “Are you going to tell me you don’t have any little hidden fantasies, Hawke?”  When Hawke shook her head, Isabela tutted at her.  “Don’t lie, sweet thing.  Especially not to me.”  The pirate reached out to rub a chunk of Hawke’s hair between her fingers.  “You can tell me anything,” she purred, her lips close to Hawke’s ear.

Hawke tried not to squirm.  Maker knows she was attracted to Isabela, everyone was.  But she hadn’t gone down that path because, as attracted as she may be, she liked Isabela’s easy friendship and banter.  And she didn’t want to muddy the waters with sex, even with ideas that involved what the pirate’s piercing would feel like on her skin.....

Isabela must have sensed Hawke’s hesitation because she said in a low voice, “Well, if not me, then who?”  She nodded to the group of men in the corner.  “Them?  Oooo, what about all of them with just you?  That could be fun.”  She pulled back, finger tapping her chin in thought.  “Or what about Merrill?  She’s so sweet, but certainly not innocent.  I bet she’s a tiger in the bedroom, that dark hair and those soft little lips-”

“I’m not telling you anything,” Hawke muttered into the new mug of ale that appeared at her elbow.  Bless Norah, she might be as tough as jerky but she always knew when to bring more beer.

Isabela pouted.  “Oh, come on, play along or I’ll just keep making guesses until you blush.”

“Or I throw my ale in your face.”

The pirate shrugged.  “Wouldn’t be the first time.”  Her eyes scanned the crowd they sat at the edge of, trying to find a suitable patron to terrorize Hawke with.  When her eyes alighted on a familiar face, she grinned wickedly.  “I know who it is,” she said in Hawke’s ear.  “Skilled in battle, which you appreciate. Great hands, which any woman would appreciate. And he’s got those whiskey colored eyes and hair you could just tug on....Hawke, you little minx.” 

Hawke’s head whipped around, trying to spot who Isabela was talking about when a familiar voice came from behind them.  “Excuse me, ladies, I don’t mean to interrupt.”  Hawke swallowed hard when she saw Varric standing there, looking bemused.   _Skilled in battle, whiskey colored eyes..._

“Isabela,” Hawke growled quietly.  “That’s not funny.”  And Isabela just cackled as she motioned to Norah for another round.

The scene in front of Varric was highly amusing, if not uncommon.  Rivaini and Hawke had a friendship based on mutual trust and an even balance of naughty and nice.  He had been watching them from the minute he came into The Hanged Man and it was obvious that Isabela was trying to get a rise from Hawke.  His warrior friend had quite the blush in her cheeks, and it wasn’t all from the pub’s high in alcohol, low on taste ale.

Isabela gave him a lazy grin.  “Not interrupting, Varric, not at all.”  She nudged Hawke’s arm with the toe of her boot.  “Right, Hawke?”

Hawke muttered something that sounded like a Fereldan curse into the rim of her mug.

Varric took a seat on the opposite side of the table, wishing Hawke was in a better mood.  At the same time, he was grateful for the fact that the table talk had turned awkward - what more damage could he do?

Varric needed Hawke’s help, and it wasn’t like borrowing some coin or asking if he could take Hero, her Mabari, out with him when he met some questionable contacts on the outskirts of the Wounded Coast.  This was....personal, and problematic at best, especially if Hawke decided to take offense and keelhaul him.

Varric waited until Norah brought him a mug before saying, “Hawke, I have a proposition for you.  It’s kind of a...personal matter I need your help with.”  He shot Isabela a look.  “And it’s private.”

Isabela leaned forward on an elbow.  “Oh, this ought to be good.”  

“Can’t take a hint, Rivaini?” Varric asked easily.

Hawke elbowed her.  “He said it’s private, Isabela.  Leave us to talk, then we’ll start drinking again.”

The pirate snickered, shaking her head.  “Why should I?  You’ve made the mistake of piquing my curiosity.”  She nudged Hawke playfully.  “Besides, if she won’t do it, you know I will.”

Varric knew he should have just called Hawke up to his private room.  He pointed a finger at Isabela.  “Well, if making you curious is the worst thing I can do, let’s see if I can remedy the situation.”  He motioned to Hawke, who took the hint.  She moved Isabela’s leg from her lap (Hawke’s hand on her leg making the pirate coo playfully), and stood.

“We’ll see you later, Rivaini,” Varric said as he led Hawke to his room.

“Do everything I would to him, and more!” Isabela yelled at their retreating backs before grabbing Varric's untouched mug and downing it.

“Sorry about that,” Hawke said as they climbed the stairs.  “She was already pretty deep in her cups when you came along.”

Varric chuckled.  “It’s Rivaini, every other word she says either is dirty or a double entendre.”  

“Good point.”

They reached his room and Varric opened the door for her.  She smiled at him, amused that he would do such a thing.

“Can’t I open a door for a lady?” he said as she walked in.

Hawke plopped down in a chair.  “I’m not complaining.  It’s just a nice little reminder that some men actually have manners.”

He laughed.  “What can I say?  I’m a gentleman.”  Varric snagged a bottle of wine and two rough goblets.  “Wine, m’lady?”

Hawke smiled.  “Why the hell not?”

Varric set about pouring wine, and once Hawke had a few sips, pulled out a fairly large stack of papers and plunked them down in front of her.

Dust rose and tickled her nose, making her face scrunch.  “What is this, Varric?”  He whipped off the top blank page with a flourish.  Hawke leaned forward, eyes narrowed as she read out loud, “For The Love of A Bard:  The Passionate Tale of Brosca, Hero of Fereldan, and His Lover, Leliana.”  Her eyes widened as she looked up at him.  “You finished it?”

Varric smiled proudly at her excitement, then sank down in a chair beside her.  “I did - almost.”  He tapped the stack of papers with a finger.  “I’m having some trouble finishing a few scenes, and this is where I discuss the rather, uh, personal matter with you.” He took a swig of wine.  “But you have to promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“If your first thought after I ask you for this favor is to kill me, try to refrain from doing so.”

“Varric,” she admonished gently, “you know I would do just about anything for you.  What’s going on?”

For the first time since she’d known him, Varric looked hesitant.  He cleared his throat and said, “I can’t finish the book without writing the love scenes.  You know how the peasants get when they don’t get their daily dose of smut.”  He rifled through the pages and landed on a scene where Brosca and Leliana were starting to get intimately involved.  “But I’ve never been with a human before, and since I have no first hand knowledge of what sex with a human is like, I was hoping you’d help a friend out by making some suggestions....and letting me get a bird's eye view. Just trying positions, no funny business."  He tried for levity.  “Otherwise, my poor dwarf hero won’t know the touch of his beloved human bard.  Can you really deny them their love?”

Hawke choked, trying not to laugh at his lighthearted tone and at the absurdity of what he was proposing.  She slowly put down the goblet, her lips stained slightly from the dark red wine.  “You want me to help you write sex scenes by letting you clamor over me like we're lovers?"

Varric fiddled with one of his earrings.  Maker, why was this so hard?  Hawke was his friend, and he didn’t have a thing for humans.  He was a dwarf-on-dwarf and one crossbow kind of guy.  Humans intimidated him a little, mostly because there was too much of them in general - too tall, limbs too long.  Humans were an unknown.  It was really that simple.  And he told Hawke exactly that.  “You’re just...different,” he said in conclusion.  “And you’re my best friend.  I can’t ask anyone else, mostly because I don’t trust anyone else.  Can you imagine if I had asked Rivaini?  I’d have been stripped naked and humped on every surface.”  He shivered.  “I like her, but not like that.”

Hawke chortled at the idea of Isabela tupping Varric, but sobered when she realized that she really was the only one he could ask.  She was touched by his confession about trusting her.  Varric had wormed his way into her heart over the years by being his normal, charming, effervescent self.  And he was a force to be reckoned with in battle.  Maker knows he’d saved her ass more than a handful of times with Bianca and his deadly aim.  It was extremely hard not to like the man. _It didn’t hurt that he wasn’t hard on the eyes_ , a little voice deep in her subconscious said.  She chose to ignore it.

She sighed.  “This stays between us?”

He nodded solemnly.  “It’s all in the name of writerly research, Hawke.”

“Clothes stay on?”

“You wound me by suggesting otherwise, beautiful,” he said.  Hawke searched his face for sign of a joking manner and found none.  Maker’s breath, he was really, truly serious about this.  And that broke her resolve.  As if sensing that she was going to say yes, Varric added, “And no shenanigans either.  No inappropriate touching.  I just need the, uh, logistics of the act.  I can make up the details just fine on my own.”

That made Hawke laugh loudly.  “No doubt, Serah Tethras.  I’ve read your other novels.  You have a dirty mind.”

Varric grabbed her hand and kissed it.  “Is that a yes?”

Hawke slung back the rest of her wine and nodded.  “Yes, I’ll help you.”

Varric smiled.  “Okay, then let’s get started.”  He picked up the wine bottle.  “Unless you need a little more liquid courage?”

Hawke waved him off.  “I’m good.”  She eyed him carefully.  “So, how tall is Brosca?”

Varric stood so she could get a better visual.  “Most dwarves are about the same height.  So let’s say as tall as me.”

“And Leliana?”  She stood, looking down at him slightly.  “I’m just over five feet tall, if that helps.”

Varric nodded.  “Maybe just a little taller.”

“That works.”  She started tugging him over to the bed, the alcohol in her veins giving her courage she wouldn’t normally have.  “I don’t think height will be too much of an issue.”

Varric let himself be drug over to his bed, watching Hawke as she looked between him and the bed a few times.  “Something wrong, Hawke?”

“No, just thinking.”   _About her and Varric on this bed for real, no clothes, just skin_.  “How does the scene start out?”

“Well, I’ll skip over the lovey-dovey details for you and get straight to the good stuff.”  He nudged Hawke toward the bed and she sat down.  “Brosca leads Leliana to his bed and gently settles her back on the pillows, his eyes aflame with passion for his beloved bard.”  Hawke laughed lightly at his tone, one she recognized well from many nights spent listening to him spin tales as fine and intricate as a spider’s web.  Another nudge had her laying back on his pillows, staring up at him as he gingerly crawled over her. “Then there’s a bunch of kissing and groping and talking about their favorite bits on each other.  We can skip that part.”  

Hawke nodded like that was probably a good idea.  “Are you worried about the difference in height being a problem when you’re...describing the act?”

Varric nodded, his wise eyes looking down at her, then at the space in between their bodies.  “You don’t think it’s an issue?”

Hawke crooked a finger at him, urging him forward so he was kneeling between her legs.  “You just need to think creatively,” she said with a grin.  “Let’s try this - stay there on your knees and see how far up you can reach.”

Varric hesitated slightly.  Maybe he hadn’t thought this through completely.  If he did as Hawke instructed, his hands would land just above her breasts and that was very much in the no-touching territory, a place he did not want to go.  

And then Hawke, impatient as always, grabbed his collar and hauled him up her body.  He was right, he thought ruefully, as he caught his balance by putting one hand on the mattress, the other landing squarely on the very top of her chest.  Hawke jolted underneath him, then gently moved the offending hand to the mattress.  Varric steadied himself and looked down at her.  “What do you think?”

“It’s - awkward,” Hawke admitted.  “It doesn’t help that you aren’t fully up against me.  Closing that space may help.”   She saw the reluctance in his eyes and said in a teasing tone, “You’re the one who wanted the down and dirty on sexual positions.  Don’t go getting shy on me now, dwarf.”

Varric visibly relaxed.  “Who, me?  Never.”  He moved closer, pressing their bodies together.  His hips fit snugly inside her thighs, his hands just barely at shoulder height.  He peered down at her, curious to know what she was thinking.  “Would this really work?”

Throwing caution to the wind, Hawke thrust up experimentally, coming into full contact with Varric’s groin.  The heat pouring off him was amazing, she thought as she arched against him.  He was solid and...impressive, if the brief moment their bodies touched gave her any indication.

Varric laughed, a little shaky.  He couldn’t stop his fingers curling into the pillows beneath her, his traitorous body heating up at the nearness of her.  His cock was pretty happy too.  “Uh, Hawke, remember what I said about no inappropriate touching?”

She had the arrogance to look offended.  “That wasn’t touching, it was thrusting.  You wanted to know if it would work, and I found out.”  She tipped her hips up, coming within an inch of him and fell back into the mattress.  “Leliana could stay like this for a while, but she’d get tired.  This is where the height difference becomes a problem.”  She grinned, a little too evilly for Varric’s liking.  “But I have an idea.”

The world turned upside down as Hawke hooked strong legs around him and using the elements of strength and surprise, flipped him.  He landed hard on his back, momentarily dazed.  When his eyes refocused, he saw her staring down at him, a bemused smirk on her face.  Her knees dug into the outside of his hips as she repositioned herself on top of him, hands splayed on his chest for balance.

He felt very, very good underneath her, solid and real and better than any man she’d ever had between her legs.  He was her best friend, but she knew in that moment, she wanted more.  He placed no demands on her, and in return she got unwavering loyalty, a sharp tongue, and hell of an archer.   _Fuck, that’s it_ , she thought, _I really am a sucker for this dwarf.  If he asked me to strip right now in the name of research for his blasted novel, I’d do it._

“Write that in your novel,” she said, trying to suppress her laughter at the bewildered expression on his face.  

 _Oh, he’d write about it.  Ancestors, why did she have to feel so good?_  Varric mentally slapped himself. _Think about the novel, idiot.  Think about your characters, that’s why you’re doing this.  You are not attracted to Hawke, she’s a human.  Your best friend. And she could take your head off with her bare hands, if she were so inclined._

“Well, Hawke,” he said, going for casual, “I can certainly see where the human on top would be advantageous.  I mean, the fact that you’re taller isn’t all that noticeable now.”

Hawke hummed in thought and after a few moments said, “I bet Leliana likes to be on top.”  Varric’s eyes widened, but she couldn’t stop herself.  He was too close and she was starting to feel that wonderful curl of heat in her lower belly.  “Does she, Varric? Does your heroine like having control?”  Varric swallowed hard as her voice deepened into a seductive throb.  “And does Brosca like being topped?  I know some men don’t, but since Brosca is supposed to be this big, strong hero who loves Leliana more than life itself, I would like to think he’d enjoy being straddled like this.”

And Maker take him, she put her weight squarely down on him, her body flush against his.  His brain might have sputtered, but his cock most certainly did not.   _Hell, there is no way she doesn’t feel that.  I’m practically trying to stab her through layers of cloth and leather._

“No answer for me?” she said, eyes dark with what Varric knew was blooming lust.  “Did I just make the great storyteller falter a little?”  She tapped his chest with a finger.  “You missed your cue, dwarf.”

 _Missed my cue?  Maker’s balls, she’s going to be the death of me_.  Varric looked up at her and decided that he’d had enough.  He’d convinced himself for years that humans didn’t attract him, and that was true.  Except for her.

“Actually, I didn’t,” he shot back.  Varric bolted upright, putting his hands under her thighs and tipping her backwards so her head landed toward the foot of the bed, her legs coming to rest on his shoulders as he crawled up her body.  Her legs came down, booted feet on either side of his chest as he pushed up against her, one knee coming to rest at the apex of her thighs, the other just outside her right hip.  His hands skimmed her sides and she gasped at the sensation.  Even through her coat and tunic, she could feel the heat and strength of his fingers as they brushed against her ribs. 

The breathy little gasp she let out traveled straight to his cock and he bit back a moan.   _She either lets me do this, or rips my head off my body and tosses it down the stairs_.  He crawled closer, as far as he could, and grabbed her hand to kiss it.

“I think we have ourselves a situation, Hawke,” he said, his voice tight.

“I thought you said you weren’t attracted to humans,” she replied, stroking his face softly.

“I’m not.  You’re special.”  He let his lips linger on her fingers.  “You’re not just any human, you’re Hawke.”   _My Hawke_.

His fingers brushed the side of her face almost reverently, making her sigh.  “What about your novel?”

“It can wait,” he said before closing the distance between their lips.

Her mouth was impossibly soft, and she tasted like ale and smelled like the lavender that grew in her gardens.  Varric tilted his head slightly, encouraging her to open up to him.  She did, melting under his kiss like snow in the early spring sun.  Tentatively, he ran the tip of his tongue across her lower lip and she groaned.  Her hand grabbed the back of his head as she pushed back into his kiss, needy.  Strong fingers dug into the base of his skull and made him shiver.

Hawke whispered his name against his lips, one little word bringing the whole world crashing down on his head.  He slid his fingers into her hair, pulling her head up slightly so he could press back against her mouth that much harder.

Hawke’s head spun under the force of his kiss.  Beyond her disbelief that this was even happening was a feeling of rightness.  This was all right - the way he cradled her head and captured her mouth and left her breathless and keening and desperately needing more.

Her hand traveled down his neck, her hot touch making him writhe.  He broke the kiss then and looked down.  “We have far too many clothes on,” she said with a saucy smile.

“Agreed.”  When she started to reach for his jacket, he stopped her.  “But not too fast.  I may need some....inspiration later.”  Varric let her slide the jacket down his shoulders.  He returned the favor by pulling off her boots and tossing them to the side.  She reached for him then, pulling him into another earth-shaking kiss.

They broke apart panting and wild-eyed.  “Way too many clothes,” she said as she reached for his shirt, and he for her jacket.  Hands grabbed and pulled and caressed, yanking clothes and pitching them to anywhere in the room.  At one point, they moved so Hawke could be back at the head of the bed, spread out comfortably over pillows and blankets.  

When her bare legs met his, they both moaned.  He was down to his smalls, her to a threadbare tunic, breast band and small clothes.  “We’re ridiculous,” she said with a laugh.  “I can’t believe either of us thought we could dry hump without turning it into something more.”

“Speak for yourself, Hawke,” Varric said with a scoff, “You’re not the one to find your entire list of sexual preferences boiled down to one name.”

“I don’t sleep around, Varric,” she said in a dark tone.  “If I get involved with someone like this, it’s serious.”  She scooted up the bed a little to sit up.  “I’ll understand if you don’t want this to go any further.”

Varric shook his head.  “You misunderstand me, Hawke.  When I say boiled down, I mean it.”  He leaned down to brush his lips over her ear.  “You’re it, beautiful.  I don’t stray, and I don’t kiss and tell.”

One foot curled around his thigh, bringing him closer.  “Good to know.”  She nuzzled his neck, loving the way he smelled of leather and ink and candlewax.  It was a distinctly Varric smell, one that she knew would make her horny every time she caught a whiff of it.  Her fingers grabbed his hair, releasing it from its bond.  She dug her fingers into his scalp.

“Mmmm,” he hummed into her hair, marveling at how the silken strands felt on his skin.  He kissed his way down her throat, growling when her tunic got in his way.

Hawke sat up and started to pull the tunic off, Varric not helping her by touching every inch of skin that was exposed to his gaze as the shirt fell away.  She was gloriously pale, freckled along her arms, shoulders, and legs.  She squirmed under his intense stare and he laughed, running his hands over her shoulders.  “I’m just looking.  You’re my first human, you know.  Physically, we’re the same but there’s just so damned much of you, it’s hard to know where to start.”

A wicked grin settled on her face as she threw herself back on the pillows.  “I leave myself in your capable, curious hands, Master Tethras.”

And that was all the invitation he needed.  He licked and sucked his way down her neck, paying attention to how she squirmed and sighed as he kissed the junction between her neck and shoulders, the way she whimpered when he came close to her breasts.

He knew from experience that dwarven women had fairly substantial breasts.  On a human, he wasn’t sure what to expect.  It’s not like her full plate armor revealed anything to give him a hint of their size or shape.  Hawke’s breasts, still covered, were begging to be discovered.  Hawke groaned low in her throat as he cupped one breast experimentally, testing its weight and the way it felt in his hand.

“Varric,” she said warningly, “you’re a horrible tease.”  He answered her by running his tongue across her collarbone.  She squirmed beneath him, arching to get closer but she was pushed back down.

“I mean to make this last,” he whispered as he fingered her breast band.  “How else am I going to remember everything?”

She growled at him.  “You better not use every little detail in your novel.”  

He laughed, cupping her other breast and making her eyes roll back.  “Can’t I talk about your long, pale legs, or your adorable freckles?”

“Adorable?” she sputtered.

His fingers crept to the catch securing the cloth that was hiding her breasts from him.  “No?  How about your silken hair?”  Wiggling his fingers, he released the clasp and watched the relief on her face as her breasts were released, fully exposed to his view. She was stunning, beautiful pale flesh that was tipped with dusky nipples.  But he held himself back, content for a few minutes to just stare.

She smiled at him, looking a little wild.  “You worked me up for that, and now you won’t touch me?”

“I’m making mental notes,” he quipped.  “You definitely have the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever seen.”

She smiled warmly at his compliment, but she needed him, now.  Well, if he wouldn’t take the initiative....

A twitch of her eyebrows should have warned him she was about to do something shocking.  Running one hand up her stomach, she pressed her knee into his groin.  His breathing faltered as she added more pressure, making him rock against her.  He let out a small groan when she cupped her own breast, quick fingers flicking her nipple.  She gasped as she pulled slightly, twisting the hard point of flesh just so.

Varric watched her play with herself, committing every flick of fingers, every moan and gasp to memory.  Hawke was being very, very dirty and he fully believed that Leliana would do something similar to Brosca.  They were rather much alike, he mused, his Hawke and his fictional bard.   _It was always the ones you don’t suspect_ , he thought wryly.

Hawke put both hands on her breasts now, panting and moaning, pleading for Varric to touch her.  A huge grin on his face, he bent down and replaced her fingers with his mouth.  Hawke tossed her head and arched, feeling his other hand reach into her smalls, brushing the wetness he found there.

Varric slid his arm under the middle of her back, bringing her closer.  He bathed her nipple with the flat of his tongue, then sucked it into his mouth, scraping his teeth lightly over the tortured bud.  The long line of her body met his as her back arched.

Hawke moaned, low and long, the utter, beautiful pressure of his mouth and fingers sending her into ecstasy.  “Varric, Varric, Varric,” she chanted, her voice no louder than a whisper.

His head popped up, mouth shining and lips red.  “Keep that up, beautiful,” he said before yanking her smalls down and tossing them over his head.  He wasted no time in teasing her lips, nimble fingers skimming her soft folds.  Nudging her legs further apart, he bent down to place rapid-fire kisses over her stomach and hips, following the tremors in her muscles  The arm around her back slid lower, canting her hips up, his face inches from her wet center.  

Hawke let out a small, breathy pant, shaking the closer his mouth came to her sex.  When he quickly licked her, she let loose a tight, needy sound that shot straight to his groin.

“Oh, Hawke,” he said, his voice rumbling through her, setting off an avalanche of tremors.  “You are so very wet for me.”  He placed a kiss inside her thigh.  Her other leg pushed against his head, trying to direct him exactly where she wanted him to use that talented mouth.  He put a strong hand on the offending leg.  “As much as I want to, love, I think I’d rather feel that wet heat on my cock.”  He licked her one more time, making her curse.  “We can explore that later.”

“Varric, you ass,” she said, grabbing his hair, trying to haul him up to her.  He obliged, sliding over her body and up to meet her lips.  This kiss bruised, their teeth nipping and biting.  Varric shoved one hand down, pushing his smalls off.  He backed away from her only briefly to kick them off, giving her an excellent view of just what his leathers and clothes hid.  Compact muscles, beautiful arms and legs, and a strong core that rivaled anything she’d seen on a human man.  He was breathtaking, and the look in his eyes predatory as he came back to her,  then up to crush his mouth against hers.

“Need you,” she whispered against his lips.  He grunted in reply, positioning himself to slide into her.  

“Wait,” he said, “I have an idea.”  He smirked at her.  “You told me this position would be tiring, but I just want you underneath me.”  He lightly smacked the side of her ass.  “Lift up.”  She did so, curious as to what he was doing.

Varric wasted no time in shoving several pillows under her lower back and backside.  This shifted her hips up nicely.  He helped her add another pillow below her neck and leaned back to view his work.  She looked like a sinful, beautiful offering to an old god, her pale skin shining in the candlelight, eyes wide and dark, lips parted softly.  Her whole body shook with need and her hands searched for him, pleading for his touch.

He was a gentleman, after all.  He knew better than to keep a lady waiting.

Repositioning himself over her, he thrust in, needing no help from her.  Maker, she was wet and tight and almost too hot.  She instantly clamped around him and he groaned. He couldn't help it, she was magnificent.

 _Oh, Maker_ , Hawke thought as he thrust against her.  Her hips rose to meet him, matching his slow, shallow thrusts.  They weren't pushing themselves as hard as they could, savoring the small things - little moans and gasps, the tensing of muscles in legs and arms, hair falling softly around their faces, the sweetness of their lips meeting again and again.

It was so good, this torturous climb to the peak, but when Varric shifted just enough to hit the right spot, she couldn’t take it anymore.  Hawke sunk her fingernails into his shoulders, urging, begging him for more - faster, harder, everything he had.  Varric tucked his head into her neck, tasting her flushed, sweat-slicked skin and pushed against her, meeting her unspoken demands and testing his stamina.

Her hands grabbed for him, holding on, slipping down then back up as she finally found purchase.  She pulled him tightly to her, holding him as closely as she could.  Varric felt her arms around him, supporting him, and he believed the world could have ended right then and he wouldn’t regret it.  

She tipped her head up to look at him and he saw her - her strength, her beauty, her loyalty, and her pain.  Her loneliness.  Her grief and regrets and fears and the things that kept her awake in the cold dawn hours and he loved her for everything she was, and everything she would become.

“Marianna,” he whispered, making her gasp at the sound of her given name on his lips.

She flew apart then, knowing that he was there to bring her back once the pleasure ended and her breathing slowed and her body cooled against his.  He felt her release and followed her down, knowing she wasn’t going to leave his bed empty after she recovered like so many other lovers had before.

When the last tremors shook themselves loose, Hawke reached up and brushed his hair from his face, smiling at him with tenderness.  He kissed her jaw, gingerly pulled from her, and instantly scooped her into his arms, wanting to feel her body next to his without the demands of arousal.

Hawke laid her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow.  Her fingers traced aimless patterns in his chest hair and he chuckled quietly when she brushed a sensitive spot.

“Didn’t know you were ticklish,” she said drowsily.

“I’m a rare dwarf, love - beardless, cunning, and ticklish,” he said into her hair, making her laugh.  He pulled her tightly to him and she wrapped a foot around his calf.

“Do we take a bath now or later?” Hawke asked, raising her head so she could see him.  

She was sticky and flushed and absolutely gorgeous.  He didn’t want to ruin that.  Varric threw a blanket over them and said, “Later.”  He combed his fingers through the ends of her hair.  “Besides, I’m not up for another round just yet.  If we wait, I can get us into all kinds of trouble in that big copper tub I’ve got in the next room.”

“Mmm, promises, promises,” she murmured into his chest.

“Yes, but I make good on mine,” he replied, closing his eyes and letting sleep take him into darkness.

 

* * *

 

When Varric and Hawke finally made their way back down into The Hanged Man, it was well past sunset.  They’d planned to come down earlier than that, but just as Varric had started to don his shirt and jacket, Hawke had shoved him up against the wall, pushed his pants down to his knees, and took him into her mouth.

 _A come to the Maker moment if I’ve ever known one_ , he thought, heat rising up in his belly just remembering the feel of her mouth.

Hawke shot him a saucy look and wandered over to their normal table to find it full.  Everyone but Sebastian had come in for drinks and hands of Wicked Grace.  When Isabela saw them approach, she opened her mouth and Hawke braced for any number of crude jokes or comments.  

But Isabela waited until Hawke sat down beside her and whispered in her ear, “Good on you,” and let it go at that.

Varric chose to stay out of the first few hands.  The table was already packed and a few people had approached him, asking for one of his stories.  A few requests were made and Varric finally acquiesced, raising his hands for silence so he could begin.

The entire pub stopped to listen.  It was a rare performance from Kirkwall’s famed storyteller and no one wanted to miss it.

Varric looked around the room, catching Hawke’s eye as he said, “I’ve got a new tale for everyone tonight.  Let me tell you the story of Brosca, hero of Fereldan, and his human love, the bard Leliana.  You see, Brosca never intended to fall in love with a human. Hell, he never intended to fall in love at all.  But Leliana changed his mind and turned his world upside down with one kiss.”

 


End file.
